The Italian Interlude Part 2- Lost In Loretto

The thudding sound of the wheels against the blocks-laid sidewalk vociferously resonated as I yank the trolley bag along one of the streets of the Loretto District (if I may call it such).  I looked around and there is nothing Italy about this place I thought.  In fact, it seemed like I was somewhere in Malaté  (somewhere in Manila ) for that matter.  Aside from the narrow streets, among the things I noticed in that area are: (1)  There were fewer than few taxis that roam around (you will find a couple of them in taxi stops)  (2)  Private cars are mostly that of the mini-hatchbck types.  (3)  People get around in bicycles.  (4)  The public transportation are trams  and buses that look like trams.  The trams run on tracks laid on the same road where cars and other vehicles pass.  At first sight, I found the tracks to be a little complex than the usual two-way tracks I’ve been accustomed to.  It seemed to me that one track splits into about three or four more at the intersections.  The metro ordeal was enough for me at the moment and another ride would yield another risk so I decided to just walk again- the safest way to do at the moment.  There were mostly coffee shops and bars along the stretch that I was trudging.  And by the next block I would find similar establishments and some others like panini shops, kiosks and the like.  Canopies are common in almost all the shops- now that’s Italian (or French perhaps? I don’t know).  The signage of every establishment bearing Italian names, words, taglines and all tells me that I am not somewhere in the Middle East.  Having worked in Saudi Arabia for over 7 years, I got used to seeing (not reading, mind you) Arabic texts everywhere.  At least where I am at the moment, I can read what’s written and somehow comprehend the message it conveys like the signs on driveways says: “Passo Carabille”.  For one thing, I thought passo and the English word pass could are one and the same and carabille could mean car.  Ergo, this is where a car passes and therefore must not be blocked.  At that point in time, my feet were already tired but there was nothing else to do but walk  and walk until I figure something out.  Which hotel should I stay and which  one  is within my means. I didn’t know where to go, and was too shy to ask around.  In as much as I was literally lost, I was starting to feel desperate as the air got colder everytime as the sunset is halfway through.  I started praying and asked the Lord for strength and rational thinking.  “Attenzione!”  an old folk (seated with some others) in one of the outdoor tables of a coffee shop hollered as her hand gestured me to stop.  So I stopped… she was smiling while pointing at my shoes.  It so happened that I was about to step on a dog poop.  I took in a luxurious deep breath and exhaled a sincere “grazie mille!” and a smile (good thing I read one of those “common Italian phrases”).  She answered back in Italian not losing the smile on her face.  Whatever it was, I knew she meant “you’re welcome” and so I headed on my way.  It would have been another burden (and shame) walking around with a dog poop all over my shoes.  And oh while were at it, one more thing noticeable among them is their love for dogs.  You would see a lot of residents walking their dogs- big and small alike (later on I will find out that it goes the same for those in the tourist spots area and mainly in the city center of Milan ).  At that time it was already about 6:30 in the evening.  It’s been over  5 hours of wandering about from the time I got off the bus in Milano Centrale to where I was standing right now.  My aching feet and strained calves adds to the panic type of disposition I am currently in.  Right now, I am supposed to be either in a hotel in Riva del Garda or in the the ampitheater watching the chorale contest.  We are not booked in a hotel in Milan until after two days more as part of the actual itinerary.  I sent a text message to Marlo back in Riva, the  group’s president and asked for the address of the hotel in Milan where we have reserved for 19 persons.  The only thing I know is that the hotel name is Hotel Mozart.  I decided to just book in  the same hotel until they get here.  The message tone hasn’t even finished beeping as I hurriedly opened the inbox of my cellphone.  Marlo’s message reads:  HOTEL MOZART, PIAZZA GERUSALEMME MILAN ITALY . That was it and the next thing I know I was already seated at the back of an odd looking cab which I couldn’t figure out whether it’s a car or a mini-SUV or both.  I didn’t have to say the address to the cab driver.  He knew where the particular hotel was and as we were on our way, I thought that it was the best thing that ever happened to me on that day.  Fifteen minutes later, the taxi pulled over in front of a building with a neon sign that says HOTEL MOZART.